The Darian Con
by zsazsa4168
Summary: AU: Jack and Ianto are private dicks. Gwen Cooper hires them to find a stolen object, but all is not as it seems.... Written for TW big Bang


56

**Title:** The Darian Con  
**Author**: zsazsa4168  
**Beta(s):** the _fabulous_ scaprez1  
**Artist:** Me, again.  
**Character/Pairing(s**): Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones, other TW characters, plus Rose Tyler OOC beyond all recognition  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Word Count: **15,800  
**Warnings: **None. Familiarity with TW and DW may get you an extra grin here or there, but I've spoiled nothing.  
**Disclaimer:** I hereby disclaim the "intelligence" of anyone who needs this kind of notice to figure out what's going on here.  
**Author's Note(s): ** AU: I wanted to write a TW fic as noir fiction in the tradition of Gardner, Chandler and Hammett. Except, I don't like Jack when he's too dark and morally ambiguous, or when his dark side brings painful dysfunction into his relationship with Ianto. We lived through that this past summer, right? So perhaps I've created a new genre, fluff noir? Hardboiled fluff? You people and your quaint little categories.  
**Summary: **Jack and Ianto are private dicks. Gwen Cooper hires them to find a stolen object. But all is not as it seems….

Link to Fic:  
Link to Art:

The Darian Con

On a typical morning in the city, I was in my office, feet up on the desk, holding an ice pack to my aching melon. I'd already caught one of the Weevil brothers running a scam down by the docks and I'd got myself shot dead. Twice.

"Coffee, sir," Ianto said, coming through from the outer office. Ianto brews a mean cup of joe, just what I needed at that moment. At other moments, Ianto himself was just what I needed. We had a good arrangement.

"Ianto," I asked. "Do you ever wonder if it's you, or just your coffee that I love?"

He leaned over and planted one on my kisser. "Not at all," he said. "I've always known it was the coffee. But I'm sure there's room enough in this relationship for the three of us."

"You're a bigger man than I, Jones."

"Yes. I thought we'd settled that, Jack. Or do I need to get out the tape measure again?"

I watched his gorgeous ass as he swept out of the room. Maybe, the day wouldn't be a total loss after all.

Ianto had barely closed my door, or so it seemed, when he was poking his head back at me. "Client, sir. Are you up to it?"

"Yes, Ianto. Send him in."

"_Her_," Ianto said, holding the door open wider.

Her, indeed. She had on a grey knit dress and it was snug around all the right parts. Between the plunging neckline and the high-altitude slit in her skirt, I had to close my eyes and slap the ice pack back on my face. She wasn't my type, really, but then Ianto was always scolding me about "labels" and "types." Maybe I should be more flexible.

"Gwen Cooper, sir," Ianto said as he pulled the door shut behind her.

"Have a seat, Miss Cooper."

"Mrs.," she corrected me.

"Forgive me. _Mrs_. Cooper." I said a silent prayer for Mr. Cooper, the poor sap. His life couldn't be easy. "How can we help you?"

"Somebody stole something from me. I want you to get it back," she said. Her eyes said something else, something about wanting me naked. I get that a lot.

"What is it?"

"Have you ever heard of a Darian Egg?"

I laughed. "Of course, I have. I've also heard of the Holy Grail, the city of Atlantis, and the Lost Moon of Poosh, Mrs. Cooper. But I've never had anyone come into my office looking for them."

Ianto came back in with a cup of coffee for Mrs. Cooper. "Cream or sugar?" he asked.

"No, thanks," she answered. Ianto left us again. "The Darian Egg isn't just an empty legend, Mr. Harkness."

"Captain."

"_Captain_ Harkness." She sipped her coffee and nodded her approval. "I've seen it myself. In fact, for a very long time it sat on a shelf in my living room."

I admit I was intrigued. "Mind if I ask how you came to own such an unusual object?"

"Not at all. Rhys – that's my husband, Rhys Williams - gave it to me as a wedding present."

"I see. And you say someone stole it?"

She nodded. "About a month ago. My husband and I went out of town for the weekend. When we got back, our house had been broken into. The egg was the only thing taken." She had another sip of her coffee. "This coffee is fantastic!"

"Yes. One of Ianto's many talents."

"I'm sure it is." She made that sound filthy. Then, she shifted in her seat and the slit in her skirt revealed about a mile of perfect leg. Did somebody turn the heat up?

"Any idea who took it?" She shook her head. "Who knew you had it?"

"Any one of our friends might have _seen_ it. I don't know that any of them knew what it was."

"Had you opened it?"

She smiled. "No, Captain. That's why it's still so valuable to me." So, she was familiar with the legend.

The egg was like a puzzle box, crafted by an artisan of the ancient Order of Dari. In an elaborate ceremony, the artisan would have placed a spirit in the box, a spirit that would grant special abilities - sort of a cross between ESP and fortune telling - to its liberator. After that happens, the spirit moves on. You could only use it once.

"Did you call the police?"

She stared intently into her coffee cup. "The police can be a little…energetic when they get their teeth into something, Captain Harkness. I need someone with a more delicate touch."

This is how people tell me there's something not quite on the up-and-up about their business. There was more to this than Mrs. Cooper was saying.

A lazy fly wandered back and forth from the window to the door, while Mrs. Cooper inspected the hem of her sleeve. I looked at her, waiting.

"What is it?" She raised her eyebrows and sipped her coffee.

"Mrs. Cooper," I finally said. "I can't help you if you're not going to be straight with me. I have a lot of experience in these things, and in my experience a citizen such as yourself, who's been robbed, doesn't normally care how energetic the police are. In fact, the more energetic the better when it comes to recovering stolen property.

"Now, why don't you tell me, what is it that you'd rather the police didn't know, or that I didn't know? Those are usually the kinds of things I find most helpful."

She smiled like a dame who's used to smiling her way out of a jam. "You're good, Captain."

"So I've been told." We heard a crash from the outer room which I recognized as Ianto, rolling his eyes so hard they hit a light fixture.

"Alright. Listen," she said. "I don't have any facts, any evidence to prove what I'm saying, but I think my husband may be involved. I think he stole my egg."

"Wasn't he with you at the time of the break in?"

"Yeah. But he has friends he could probably put up to it."

"Anyone in particular?"

"His best friend, Banana Boat. He's a nut job, a loser."

"Why?"

"Money. He's got gambling debts."

"Couldn't he just take the egg, without having somebody nick it from his own house?"

"He knew I'd be suspicious."

"Where can I find him?"

"Most nights, you can find him at the Spruce Juicer. You know it?"

"Oh yes, Mrs. Cooper. Once upon a time, I knew it quite well. I'm more the stay at home type these days." I gave her my card and hustled her out of the office before she could lie to me again. I told her I'd see what I could do.

Once I was alone, I picked the ice pack off the floor, wiped it on my pants leg, and put it back on my head. My feet were up on the desk, my ice covered head tilted back as far as the chair would allow, when Ianto came back into the room.

"That ice might do more good in your lap."

"I'm sure I have no idea what you mean."

"You're a whore, Jack Harkness." He crossed the room and stood by my head.

"I'm trying to find a way to take that as a compliment."

Ianto leaned down and planted one on my button.

"You're _my_ whore," he said.

"Much better," I said.

"So, what's the case?" He stood behind me, rubbing the back of my neck. Yet another of his talents. His hands alone are worth the salary I pay him.

"She thinks her husband stole back her wedding present."

"Hm. _The Case of the Crotchless Underwear._"

"Not exactly, but now I know what to get you if I ever decide to make an honest man out of you." Ianto smacked the back of my head. I deserved it.

"Where do we start?"

"She says she lost her Darian Egg."

Ianto laughed.

"She seemed quite serious. And as long as her money's good, I figure it can't hurt to sniff around a bit." I stood up.

"Jack, it doesn't exist. It's dishonest to take money to look for something you know you can't find."

"I told her that. She insisted."

Unlike me, Ianto had never made dishonesty a way of life, and he struggles with these moral dilemmas. "So. How do you read her?"

"Well," I said. "She was dressed like she planned to lie and wanted to make sure she got away with it. I figure even if there is no egg, something interesting is bound to be going on. Can't hurt to take a look."

"What's next?"

"You are going to find out what you can about Mrs. Cooper and her husband. His name is Williams by the way, Rhys Williams. And an associate of his named Banana Boat."

Ianto arched an eyebrow.

"Probably under the radar low lifes; so I don't expect you to find much. That's all I've got, sweetheart."

Ianto picked up the coffee cups and left me alone with my headache. I settled back in my chair, repositioned the ice pack, and tried to get some rest. I'd be working late.

* * * * *

The Spruce Juicer sits on a bluff overlooking the bay. I decided to walk. It's not exactly in our neighborhood, but the car isn't subtle and I wanted to go unnoticed.

The downside of walking is that I had to pass right through the seamy heart of this burg, and it was a dark and smelly metropolis, indeed.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not immune to the beauty and charms of my fellow man, or woman. (Although I try to make Ianto believe otherwise.) I've just been on the streets long enough to lose the expectation of human intelligence, common kindness, brotherly love.

For every child lisping "thank you, mister," when you buy her an ice cream, there was a goon who'd put a shiv in your back if he even thought you might have something worth stealing.

On the good days, my work serves a purpose. At least that's what I tell myself. I rarely have the luxury of working for what you'd call the good guys, but in the end, we usually achieve a certain justice. And, good or bad, my days end with Ianto, which makes it all worthwhile.

The trade in the Juicer was brisk for a week night. I was underdressed; most folks went in tuxes and gowns. But I wasn't anxious to blend in with the locals. If I hadn't been working, or if I'd had Ianto with me, maybe I would have honored the dress code.

There was a live band, with a platinum blond torcher, a dozen or more small tables scattered around the ample dance floor, and a bar along one wall. In a separate room, behind closed doors, there was gambling - roulette, craps, poker. Entry to those rooms, I knew, was by invitation only. Most people found the prospect much more attractive from the outside than the inside. The house had one hell of a win streak.

The owner of the Spruce Juicer, Owen Harper, was someone I'd known back in the days before I became a good guy. Not that either of us had become a Boy Scout. Truth was, we didn't see that much of each other anymore.

I noticed Owen right away, leaning against the bar surrounded by his usual circle of losers and the odd patron angling for an invitation to the back room. I took a seat at the opposite end of the bar. Owen looked sober enough to realize I wasn't going to run over and kiss his ring. I'd just wait for him to come kiss mine.

The bartender, Harry, was also someone I'd known back in the bad old days. Harry had been much slimmer back then and he did most of his talking with a mean left hook. He's much easier to get along with now.

"Ain't seen you in a while, Jack. What kinda trouble you been up to?"

"Only the best kind, Harry. You know me."

"Not so sure about that." He laughed. "How come you ain't in the back with the rest of 'em?" He handed me a glass of my usual – water, neat.

"Harry, my friend, I finally learned the hard way that what happens in that room ain't exactly my kind of trouble."

Harry nodded and stepped away to take care of another customer. I had a look around the room. Owen was still the center of attention for his gaggle of jingle-brains. He was wearing a white tuxedo jacket with a black bow tie, cummerbund and slacks. He'd cleaned up his look, but he had the same old tired act.

I noticed he didn't have a date. I couldn't remember a night when I'd seen Owen out without some fancy dish on his arm. This was unsettling. This was a possible sign of the apocalypse. This probably just meant his chippy was in the powder room.

I waited until Harry came past and asked him, "Owen flying solo tonight?"

"Not likely." He laughed. "No, she'll be here. Asian dame. One of Owen's better efforts if I must say so myself. Not sure what she sees in him."

"Listen, Harry. You wouldn't happen to know a guy by the name of Rhys Williams, would you? Or a Banana Boat?

His sharply arched eyebrow answered my question. "Not here tonight, at least not yet. But one or both of them's here most nights." He topped off my drink. "Tell you what. Why don't you take a table over by the far wall, where you can see me and the door. I'll give you the high sign if one of them shows."

"Thanks, Harry." Now, it's just a waiting game. I found a seat just as the band was taking a break. Ianto had managed to dig up a couple of photos of Rhys Williams, including one with some friends that might have included this Boat character, but we couldn't be sure. I took them out of my pocket and had another look. I barely noticed the chanteuse had sauntered back to my table and stood in front of me, hands on her hips.

"Jack Harkness!" she belted, like a drill sergeant in lavender chiffon.

"Rose!" She'd had work done, so it took me a minute to recognize her. I immediately wished I hadn't, or that I had, but soon enough to skip before she'd seen me.

Rose sat down and scooted her chair close to mine. Very close. Any closer and our chairs would have been stacked. And what is it with dames and their necklines? She might as well have been naked from the tip of her sternum up. Nothing I hadn't seen before, mind, but as I was constantly reminding Ianto, there's a time and a place. I shifted in my seat while Rose combed the hair at the back of my neck with her fingers. She had the index finger of her other hand twisted in my braces. Talk about getting her claws into me.

"You don't look a day older, Jack."

"Neither do you, doll," I lied. Hooch, nicotine and good old hard living had etched every year in bold relief on Rose's face. In her prime, Rose had been a real looker. And fun! So full of life. She'd been engaged once, to a doctor, but he'd left and she hadn't been the same since.

"What happened, Jack? Was it something I said, something I did?" She batted her fake eyelashes at me. This broad knew all the right moves. Trust me. And we'd done most of them. More than once.

"Rose, doll, everything you did was…phenomenal. But I'm spoken for; you know that."

"Right," she said, pouting. "I forgot about Boy Friday. What's he got that I don't?"

I arched an eyebrow and waited for the coin to drop.

"Oh." She made it so easy. That was part of why we'd got on so well in the first place, all those years ago. Something across the room caught her eye. An overstuffed suit with a cigar and a diamond tie stud was watching her. "Well, I gotta go. You take care of yourself. Jack." She gave me a sloppy peck on the cheek and I knew she'd left an obvious lipstick mark. I also knew she'd done that on purpose.

I glanced at my watch. Just after 11. Not late at all for places like the Juicer, but I'd had a long day and the best part of it was waiting for me at home. I figured I'd give Williams and the Banana Boat another hour.

I was still working Rose's noxious perfume out of my lungs when Owen sauntered over. He was walking with his hand stretched out, ready to shake mine, and I rose to respond like a gentleman. But just as he got within range, Owen jerked his arm back, then forward, sharply, ramming his fist into my gut. I sat down, speechless, gasping for breath.

Owen held up my empty glass and motioned to Harry, who nodded. He had come around the table to stand next to me, his back to the wall like mine, looking nervously around the room. Trying to keep one eye on the front door and one on the door to the gambling room was giving his neck a workout.

After a minute, I managed to ask, "What was that for?"

"Milton Weevil." Of course. Milton had earned himself a nice vacation in the hoosegow, just that morning.

"Figures. I knew Milton couldn't have bankrolled that operation himself."

"You shouldn'ta done that, Jack. Milton's one of mine. He's under my protection."

"Your protection wasn't worth a whole lot to Milton this morning. Don't be surprised if he asks for a refund."

"Seriously, Jack. You know my business doesn't hurt anybody. That's the beauty of it. The mark thought he was getting one over on _us_.

"Problem was, Owen, your mark was my client."

He snorted.

"Besides, with Milton gone up the river, Janet will be all alone and available." Everybody knew Owen was sweet on Janet. Idolized her.

"Don't you talk about Janet like that!"

I thought he was going to punch me again, but he straightened up and changed tactics.

"Jack, my friend," Owen purred. There wasn't a sincere bone in Owen Harper's body, a perverse kind of purity. "Tell me you're not working tonight."

"Haven't you heard, Owen? I'm retired." I smiled up at him.

"Yeah, right." He didn't acknowledge the waiter who delivered my refill. "Listen, mate. The normal clientele of this establishment, all they want is a little fun, you know? No trouble. So why don't you go cuddle up with your tea boy and leave the rest of us to our nice quiet evening?"

"A nice quiet evening sounds fine to me, Owen." I was looking right at him, giving him my most 'sincere' eyes. "Just sitting here enjoying my drink. Not getting drunk, not violating any laws."

"This time."

I smiled at him. "Hard as it is to believe, Owen. I've gone straight. I'm no longer in the trouble making business."

"This one's on me by the way," he said, pointing at my drink. He nodded to one of the goons he'd been talking to earlier and the man began walking toward my table. As if one to the gut wasn't enough. Now he was calling in the hired muscle.

A group – three couples – came in together, laughing loudly. It looked like the party was getting started just as I was being given the old bum's rush. Owen followed the new arrivals with his eyes.

I looked up and noticed Harry pointing his head at a man who'd come in by himself. Average height. Kind of soft around the middle. He held a good-sized package wrapped in brown paper under one arm. He fit Ianto's description of Rhys Williams. Like Owen, he was nervously looking around the room. He quickly scurried back outside. Meanwhile, Owen continued my dressing down.

"…cost me nearly ten grand for the cleaning alone. So, why don't you finish your drink and go on home like a good boy?" His goon smiled threateningly nearby.

"Good idea," I said. I stood up, drained the glass and walked out.

Outside, the sky was clear and the moon was nearly full, which was always good on nights when I was trailing someone. I couldn't see Rhys in the lighted half circle directly in front of the club, but I heard footsteps on the gravel driveway off to my left and went running toward the sound. The driveway ran along a cliff with maybe ten feet separating the gravel from the drop down to a small beach and the sea. There was a path somewhere, but it wasn't that easy to find, even with an assist from the moon. I crept over to the edge and looked down. Still couldn't see the path, but I did see Rhys, on the beach below me, and he was not alone.

There was another man there and he had a gun. Just then, I heard more footsteps on the gravel behind me, but before I could turn around, I felt a tremendous pain in the back of my head and everything went black.

* * * * *

When I came to, it was still dark, darker in fact because the lights at the Spruce Juicer were out and the moon was floating in and out of view behind sparse clouds. If the Juicer was closed, I'd been out for a while, which meant I was probably knocked out, not dead.

I stumbled back to the cliff and down to the beach where I wasn't surprised to find a body laid out. Rhys Williams. He'd been shot, and he no longer had the package I'd seen him with. Just as I was getting a bad feeling about where this case was headed, I heard the sirens. Damn! Last thing I needed was to spend half my day explaining to those boobs that I didn't kill the man who was, coincidently, lying dead at my feet. I wondered how they knew and if anybody had seen me on the beach. It was an unlikely hour for anyone to be just casually peeking though their curtains. Although, I wouldn't put it past Owen to try a lame attempt at a frame-up. Revenge for Milton. I scampered back up the hill and made for home.

* * * * *

Ianto opened the door just as I was pointing the key at the lock. He saw the blood on my shirt and started ordering me around like I was that kid who'd insisted on running with scissors, and now I'd put my eye out. I never let on how much I enjoy it. I'm sure he knew.

Ianto gently took my coat and hung it up, then pointed at the sofa. "Sit," he said softly, but still not a request. He came into the living room carrying a damp towel and began wiping down my neck.

"Almost healed. Were you dead?"

"Don't think so."

He stopped washing and kissed it better. "Bed, coffee, or scotch?"

"Bed, please."

"Sure. You can explain everything in the morning." He took my hand and led me back to our room.

We got right down to sleeping the sleep of the just, so naturally, an hour or two later, we were awakened by pounding at the door. I growled and buried my head under the pillow, wondering how long before whoever it was gave up and went away. Ianto ruined everything by getting up, wearing just his pajama bottoms, and going to the door.

I heard the door, then voices, a man and a woman, and then Ianto was back in the room. "Coppers. Get up."

"They want to talk to _me_?" I didn't have to open my eyes to see his eyebrow. Right. Ianto was never in trouble. I was _always_ in trouble. Of course, they wanted to talk to me.

"I'm coming." I managed to raise my butt off the bed, but my head was still under the pillow. "Coffee?"

"Certainly, but then I'll have to offer them some. And then they'll probably want to stay longer."

"Life is cruel, Ianto Jones."

"Quit your whining. This is no picnic for me either, buster."

We walked into the living room where Detective Kathy Swanson and Sergeant Andy Davidson were standing.

"Morning, folks. I'm afraid the orgy's over, but if you want to come back tomorrow night, well…"

Swanson rolled her eyes. It's funny how often I provoke that reaction in people. "Same old Jack. I'll wait while you put a shirt on." She sat on a corner of the sofa.

"No way! Come to my house uninvited, you've got to take me like you find me, sweetheart." Her eyes shot a dagger my way.

"I'm sorry. _Detective_ Sweetheart," I added quickly. "You're lucky this wasn't one of those nights I went to bed nude."

She and Ianto rolled their eyes in perfect tandem. I heard a little bell ring, and somewhere in heaven, an angel got his wings.

"Shall we sit?" Trust Ianto to bring civility back to any situation.

Swanson started right in. "What were you doing at the Spruce Juicer tonight?"

"Who says I was?"

"We can't put you _inside_…yet." And she wouldn't be able to for several hours. The staff and patrons of the Juicer were _not_ morning people. "But we do have a witness who puts you on the beach, with a dead body, just a few hours ago."

"Really? Anyone I know?"

"A man named Rhys Williams. Shot dead."

"I'm sorry for your loss."

She ignored that. "So, anything you want to tell us about your evening?"

"Not really." I smiled. I'm not proud of my behavior, but Swanson was a looker, Ianto and I agreed. And she got even hotter when she was frustrated. I couldn't resist making her really _work_ for the few answers I was prepared to give her…eventually. She just looked at me, waiting.

"Look, I'll make your job easier," I lied. "I was, in fact, at the Spruce Juicer last evening around 10:30 or 11. I spoke to a couple of people, tipped a few, but it wasn't really my crowd and I was back here by midnight. Which, Detective, was not all that long ago, and I'm pretty diligent about my beauty sleep, so if you'll excuse us…." I stood to show her out, but she didn't budge.

"Not done yet, Jack." Swanson's face made clear I wouldn't be able to get by on pleasantries and innuendo, which is a shame because she was really cute when she pretended not to enjoy that.

"Let me be straight with you, Jack."

"Finally," Ianto sighed, rolling his eyes so hard I heard them drop like marbles at the back of his skull.

Swanson continued. "I got a DB down on the beach and an eyewitness puts you right next to him.

"Who's your eyewitness?"

She covered her mouth as she yawned. "C'mon Jack. Can't this ever be easy?"

"I think fun is better than easy. But I get your point." Ianto massaged the back of my neck with one hand. It felt fantastic, really heavenly, and I made a mental note to give him a raise in the morning.

"It's late. Why don't we all go to bed, you two someplace other than here." Davidson rolled his eyes, but it was hardly up to the caliber of the other two. Tomorrow, I'll make a few inquiries, see if anybody knows this…what was his name?

"Williams," Ianto said. "Rhys Williams."

"Right. And I'll let you know what I find out. Entirely pro bono, for my friends on the force." I gave them the Harkness smile to show I meant it. At that, Ianto, Kathy and the sergeant all rolled their eyes so hard the building tilted several inches off its foundation before righting itself.

Recognizing she'd got all she could for the moment, Swanson left and took Davidson with her. Ianto and I carried each other back to bed.

* * * * *

Morning dawned crisp, sunny, and four hours too early for my liking, but Ianto managed to drag me into the office. We had our second cup of coffee, read the papers and then I left.

Ianto had given me Gwen Cooper's address on a slip of paper. "I'm going to go pay a call on our client. Maybe she'll know who would want to kill her husband."

"Plans for lunch?" Ianto called after me.

"Yeah. I'll come back here and we can walk some place. Or we could stay here and do something that's even more filling."

Ianto didn't answer, but he grabbed my ass and gave me a kiss he knew would ensure I'd be back as soon as possible.

My destination turned out to be a non-descript block of units in a neighborhood that hadn't decided whether to clean up its act and go respectable or stop resisting and go down the toilet with the next flush. A disintegrating concrete strip led to the front door, fitted with one of those systems where the door won't unlock unless one of the tenants buzzes you up. Too bad somebody had removed the lock and the door knob.

I walked up two flights to number 35 and rang the doorbell. Music floated down the hall from one of the other units, but nothing from Cooper's. I rang the bell again and knocked loudly. No answer. Good thing I don't leave the house without my tool kit. I was inside in a shake.

The first thing I realized was that this was _not_ where Gwen Cooper lived. The place was barely furnished. There was a worn sofa with only three legs in the living room and in front of it a steamer trunk in place of a coffee table. On the other side of the room, under a window, was an old television propped up on a plastic milk crate. No shelves of any sort. The apartment's one bedroom contained a mattress, a lamp and a phone book. No. The broad that visited my office didn't come home to this place at night. I took a quick look around, but didn't find any mail or anything else with identification on it.

I let myself out and went to the apartment down the hall, the one with the music. I rang the bell twice and heard somebody running a furniture obstacle course to get to the door, repeated bumps followed by shouted obscenities. When the door finally opened, I saw a woman, maybe five feet tall, leathery skin and pin prick eyes, with a drawn-in face, and a cloud of untamed white hair on her head.

"Morning, ma'am," I said, flashing my widest smile. "I was supposed to meet Mrs. Cooper in 35. Have you seen her today?"

"Him. He's a man." From the sound of her voice, I guessed she gargled daily with bourbon and broken glass. The smell when she belched confirmed at least part of that.

"Excuse me?"

"No woman. There's a man lives in 35."

"Oh, you mean Mr. Williams."

"No. Not Williams. Something else. I saw him on the stairs one day. He's a soldier, I think. Dressed like a soldier."

That caught my interest. "What do you mean?"

"Boots, gold braid, sword. You know. Like a soldier." She burped loudly and cocked her head, listening. "Goodbye," she said, then disappeared behind the door.

I rang the bell a few times more, but she didn't come back. My client had disappeared. My suspect, _her_ suspect, had disappeared, although that wasn't his fault. And now it looked like my worst psychotic nightmare might have come back to haunt me.

I figured I'd head back to the office and distract Ianto until lunchtime. Just thinking about that made me happy and I practically bounced down the stairs, whistling like I hadn't a care in the world.

The truth is, when I'm with Ianto, I haven't got a care in the world. When I'm on my own, I need to concentrate and watch my back. As it was, I took two steps outside, never looked to see if anyone was hiding behind the front door, and the next thing I knew, I was thinking "ouch" while the world went black. Again.

I came to and headed back to the office, relieved that, once again, I'd only been unconscious. By the time I got there, I was feeling pretty much right as rain.

"What happened?" Ianto rushed to my side.

"Got knocked out."

"Sit," he ordered. He pushed a chair in my direction and I sat as he inspected my neck, parting my hair in several spots to check the damage.

"Did you speak with Mrs. Cooper?" he asked, still inspecting.

"Bad address."

"I see." Ianto stepped behind his desk and grabbed his jacket. Where was he going? With one hand on the door, he stopped and looked at me. "Aren't we going to lunch?"

"You haven't tended to my wound," I said. My lower lip edged out slightly, expressing my disappointment.

"Jack, if I take time to kiss every fake booboo you drag in here, you know perfectly well we'll never get around to lunch. And I'm starved!"

* * * *

After lunch, I suggested we blow off work and spend the afternoon at the beach. Frankly, I couldn't see a downside. The two of us, in the water on a hot day, wearing nothing but our swim trunks. The only thing better than that would be if we could have had sex on the beach without being arrested.

"Jack. We have to go back to work. Be a grown up for a change."

Ouch. Low blow, Mr. Jones. "Just let me get you home. I'll show you how much of a grown up I am."

He was not sympathetic. "If I recall correctly, our client is in the wind. You're not much of a micromanager, Jack, so you may not have noticed, but clients pay us money that we use to buy things we _need_ – like food - and things we _enjoy_ – like chocolate body paint. If you want to continue to experience these things, you have to work."

I happened to know we were a long way from running out of dough, but I decided to humor him. "OK," I conceded. "How's this? We spend the afternoon at the beach. Tonight, since we seem to have lost our client, we'll go back to the Juicer – together - and see if we can't pick up the trail of that egg."

"We get to wear our tuxedos?"

"If you like."

"I like."

* * * *

Ianto Jones looks great in a suit, but when that man puts on a tuxedo, he is a phenomenal force of nature. So the tux is a treat I rarely allow myself because no matter where we go, it's almost more stress than its worth. I have a lot more self-control than Ianto gives me credit for, but I do have my limits. It's all I can do to keep my hands off him. Plus, I have to keep my eye on him around other people. Not that Ianto would stray, mind you. It's everybody else I worry about. And I'm not just being paranoid. He was literally kidnapped one year at a police charity ball. And I still suspect Det. Swanson knows more than she's telling about that fiasco.

Owen, one of the few I wouldn't have to worry about, greeted us as we walked in. He was holding the hand of a beautiful Japanese girl in a green satin dress and she practically skipped in her high heels trying to keep up with his longer stride. He gave no indication that he was still sore over Milton.

Owen introduced the girl as Toshiko. She seemed normal, for him. Owen's taste in women didn't tend toward subtle.

"Owen," I said. "I'm going to need a word at some point."

He nodded. "After this set. In my office." He led Toshiko out to the dance floor.

I led Ianto to a less occupied corner of the floor. He really is a beautiful dancer. Of course, dancing creates a certain amount of natural friction and almost before I knew what was happening, we were outside the back door in the alley, making out like a couple of teenagers. I was at the point of undoing his pants – damned cummerbund! – when Ianto pulled my hands away. That never happens.

"Jack, wait a sec."

"Can't wait." He grabbed both of my wrists, holding them down at my sides, while he tilted his head, listening.

"Jack. The music stopped."

"We're not dancing."

"End of the set? Owen? Remember the work we exchanged this afternoon's playtime for?"

"I can't believe you sometimes," I said, straightening my clothes and hair. "You're the only man in the universe who can, or would, cock block himself."

"I am uniquely talented, sir."

* * * *

Owen poured two tumblers of scotch and passed one to me. He knew I rarely drank anything stronger than water these days, but we could still remember a time when both of us had more scotch than blood in our veins. I took this as an apology for his behavior the night before.

We were in his office, a spare but expensively decorated space with dark wood paneling and heavy curtains, sitting in matching dark green leather chairs, sipping our drinks like two men born to finer things. I think Owen still dreams of those things. Me, I've found myself a much nicer dream.

"So, Jack," Owen began. "What can I do for you?" I knew he'd be hoping I wouldn't ask a really big favor, all the while relishing the possibility that I would owe him a huge favor in return.

"I've heard there's a market for an item I'm interested in, on behalf of a client."

"Oh?"

"Darian Egg."

Owen almost choked on his scotch. That had to hurt. He ran a handkerchief over his face.

"Sorry, Jack. Took me by surprise." He cleared his throat and then sniffed. "I thought you were serious."

"I am."

He squinted, trying discern a possible joke. "Jack, there's no such thing. It's a myth."

"So I've heard. I've also heard a man got iced on your beach last night, a man who, I've heard, believed he owned a Darian Egg."

He arched an eyebrow at me. "Who's your source?"

My turn to laugh. "Not a chance." I set down my glass and Owen refilled it. "No, I just need you to keep an ear out. I'm a bit surprised you didn't know of it already." He shrugged. "Just keep an eye out and if you hear anything let me know."

"Fair enough," he said. "Who's the stiff?"

"Rhys Williams. He was in here last night. Know him?"

He thought for a moment. "Don't think so." There's no way somebody got bumped outside Owen's club and he didn't already know as much as the police about it. I figured he was just trying to find out how much I knew, so I let him play ignorant. I changed the subject.

"So, Owen, tell me about the new twist."

"What can I tell you? She's a genius, literally. Plus, she's hot as hell. I mean you have no idea."

"And happy to keep it that way."

"She could have any man she wants, but don't you tell her that, Harkness. If she ever realizes, I'm in trouble."

Owen was such a poor judge of character, especially women. He was most probably already in a world of trouble.

We left Owen's office and went back out front. I noticed Ianto and Toshiko, sitting at one of the tables engaged in an animated conversation, practically drinking out of the same bottle. I started to join them, but Harry motioned me over to the bar.

"You still looking for that Banana guy?"

"Yeah. Is he here?"

"No. I'm guessing he won't be back anytime soon, seeing as how his friend got iced. Just a sec." He took care of a couple of customers and came back. "Sorry. No, I heard a coupla guys talking and I'm pretty sure he lives over at the Tremont. You know it?"

"Yeah, I know it." It's an apartment complex for mostly fast life wannabes. By night, it looked like the ultimate party palace. By day, it looked like crap and it smelled of booze and vomit. If Banana Boat lived there, he wouldn't be hard to find.

Just then I heard a commotion across the room and looked up to see Owen pulling Ianto out of his chair by the lapels. Then that bastard socked him right in the beezer. The punch knocked Ianto back a couple of steps, but he didn't fall. He regained his balance and decked Owen, naturally, but he didn't pursue him. He simply adjusted his tie and jacket, resettled his cummerbund, and walked away. In his wake, Toshiko was tending to Owen in a way that made clear she wasn't going to make a habit of it.

I signaled to Ianto and he came over. "What was that about?"

Ianto grabbed my drink. "I hadn't realized Owen was so territorial."

"Toshiko must be special. Poor girl." I signaled Harry to bring Ianto a drink.

"I got a slightly different impression from her."

I raised an eyebrow. "You weren't making a move on her, were you?"

Ianto laughed. "No, boss. I've been a good boy. I fully intend to go home with the older gentleman who brought me."

"Ready now?"

"Yep."

Really. I can't say enough about how pleased I am with that young man.

* * * *

The next morning, I headed off to the Tremont and found it as good as its reputation. At first, I tried to find a quiet observation spot, but every single sheltered corner had already accommodated someone looking for a quiet spot to pee, or lose their lunch. Actually, from the looks of it, more like their cheese and chili dip. I walked through the arched entryway into the courtyard. It was a large concrete space with a few sad planters, also concrete. There had been bamboo growing in the planters at one time, but all that remained were a few splintered poles. The pool was a deep teal blister in the middle, water sparkling under the early morning sun.

Various pieces of mismatching patio furniture were strewn across the courtyard, all empty except a chaise longue right next to the pool. The body in that chaise was snoring loudly, face down, arms and legs hanging over both sides. The body wore swim trunks, navy blue with tiny yellow bananas all over them. Could my karma really be that good?

I hooked the toe of my boot under one side of the chaise and lifted it, flipping the body into the water. Over the great splashing and sputtering in the pool, I heard laughter coming from one of the windows above. Good. What a waste if I was the only one to witness that moment. I pulled up a chair and waited while he got out and came storming around to where I was sitting.

"What the hell are you playing at, bub?" He had his body under pretty good control for a man who was wet and probably had one hell of a hangover. His mind, however, was still foggy and he had some trouble judging distances. As a result, instead of giving me what for, he found himself back in the pool splashing and sputtering. Again, I sat down and waited. This time, he came back around and sat sideways on the chaise, head down between his legs and dripping.

"What the fuck?"

"Much better," I said. "Still a ways to go, but I'm feeling generous this morning." Before we got down to business, I needed to satisfy my curiosity.

"Is Banana Boat your real name?"

"It's what they call me." Smart ass.

"Well, what did your mother call you?"

"No idea. She died when I was a kid."

"OK. What do the people who don't call you Banana Boat call you?"

He gave it serious thought, clearly an effort for him. "Jackass. Dickhead. Loser." Then he laughed. Apparently, not having a real name didn't bother him.

Boatie snapped his head up to look at me, which caused him obvious pain and he returned to studying the ever moistening concrete below his feet. When he looked, I could see the lines from the plastic strips of the chaise imprinted on his face.

"Boat Boy, I'm not planning to take up too much of your time. I can see you're a busy man."

He dripped. "Do I know you?"

"Not relevant. I'm in the market for an item and I understand you may be able to help."

This time, he rolled his head slightly so one eye peered out through his sopping locks. "What is it?"

"Darian Egg." These two words hit him like an electric shock. Banana Boat stood up straight, immediately lost his balance, and fell backwards into the pool. Again. This time, after the splashing and sputtering, he got out of the pool and began running, if you could call it that, out of the courtyard and down the sidewalk. Unfortunately for him, after three dips in the pool with a hangover, he really shouldn't have been moving so much, or so quickly. He had to stop, doubled over in pain, heaving the remains of the last evening onto an otherwise well-manicured lawn. I didn't' have any trouble catching up with him.

"Don't have it," he managed between gasps.

"Come on, Skipper! I heard your pal Rhys had one before he got himself offed."

He looked at me, wide-eyed. Did he not know Rhys was dead? Maybe he thought I'd seen him do it. "Look, I'm telling you what I told the police and that other guy. I don't have it. Never did. And I have no idea where it is right now."

"What other guy?"

"Don't know. Might have been military. Dressed kinda funny." I didn't want to hear that. And I definitely didn't want to hear what Ianto would say when he found out.

"What did he tell you?"

"Said it was his. Somebody stole it."

"Did Rhys steal it?"

"No idea. Didn't ask. He tells me what I need to know. Anything beyond that, best not to ask."

"Any idea who Rhys was going to sell it to?"

"No. Rhys didn't know. He just put out the word, let people know he had something to sell. Then he got a phone call. Said he had to meet the buyer at the Spruce Juicer."

And I knew how that ended. I helped Boat Boy straighten up and pointed his body back toward the Tremont. I was almost back to my car when I thought of something.

"Hey." I yelled. He stopped and turned slowly. "Tell me this. Do you know where Gwen and Rhys live?"

He nodded.

"Give me the address." I wanted to pay my client a visit. She owed me some answers.

* * * *

Ianto took the news about as poorly as I expected.

"What?!" Like I said, not happy. "I thought you said he wasn't coming back!"  
I had, in fact, promised Ianto that the psycho criminal mastermind, Captain John Hart, my ex, was permanently out of our orbit. On more than one occasion, my sex life had depended on it. I was worried we might be in that kind of situation once again.

"Look, Ianto," I said, stroking his arm. He shook my hand off. "We don't get to pick who the bad guys are in our cases. We just have to get the egg back."

"Why, Jack? Can I remind you _we have no client_!" He moved away from me and back to the filing cabinet, where he began placing files from a stack, on his desk, one at a time, in the most agitated manner possible. This is one of the things Ianto does to soothe himself. Eventually, the pace of filing would slow and I would be able to talk to him again.

I sat on the corner of his desk and watched him work. "We have a client, Ianto, we just can't find her. She wants the egg. We don't have the egg. What's the point in finding her right now? I think we should go find the egg."

"You would. You're not even concerned about her." He looked at me and I wished he wouldn't. I hate it when he gets upset like this. "Her husband's dead. She could be in trouble, too. And all you can think about is finding John Hart. What is it about him? You _know_ he's no good and yet you can't seem to steer clear of him. Now, you want to go after him?"

Our argument continued after we got home. We're both so stubborn, it's hard for us to settle once we get going. "Ianto, everything we know about this egg screams John Hart. An item that exists only in legend. A sudden mysterious market for it. And a dead body. And you think we should ignore all these clues because you're still jealous of him?"

He snorted. "I am not. Jealous. Jack!" But he is, he really is. "The last time he was here, a lot of innocent people wound up dead."

"Yeah, and he usually does that _to get my attention_. The sooner I get to him, the less danger he is to anyone else." I bit Ianto's ear, trying to distract him, but I could tell no amount of logic or physical pleasure was going to win the point.

"I'm just saying," he said, flopping down onto the settee.

* * * *

Ianto is almost always right, and it's a good thing, because I almost always let him have his way. And so it was that we went off after the symptom – Gwen Cooper – instead of the disease – John Hart. At least that's how I read it.

The address Boat Boy had given me was more plausible than the address Cooper had given Ianto. It was a smallish bungalow style house on a quiet street. Apparently, the Cooper-Williams' played respectable by day.

Nobody answered the bell, but the door wasn't locked, so Ianto and I walked in. The place was a mess. In the front room, we saw obvious signs of a struggle. Lamps and tables were overturned. Pictures hung cockeyed from their hooks. A large breakfront, where according to Mrs. Cooper the egg was kept, was on its side, glass shattered and ground into the carpet.

We followed the debris trail strewn down the hall to the bedroom, which looked like someone had pulled out every drawer and emptied the closet. It was hard to tell precisely what had happened.

But we did find what we were looking for. Our client was lying on her back, sideways across the bed, wearing a crimson evening gown. Her eyes were closed but, judging by the hole in her face, she wasn't sleeping.

Gwen Cooper in death was a shadow of the beauty she had been in life. She'd been shot in the forehead and the crimson blood trail down the side of her face matched her dress and the lingering traces of her dark lipstick.

"Now we have no client," Ianto said. "C'mon, let's go."

"Ianto, our client has been murdered. Aren't you at least curious about what happened?"

"Nope. Can't say that I am. And we don't get paid for being curious." He was already down the hall. "Let's go home."

"One moment, Mr. Jones," said another, not unfamiliar voice. I followed Ianto and stopped when I saw Detective Swanson and Sergeant Davidson in the front doorway. You had to admire their timing.

Swanson smiled at Ianto, sort of. "I have some questions for you and your…boss."

We righted a couple of chairs in the living room and sat down. Swanson sat on the loveseat. Davidson quickly walked through each room of the house before coming back to whisper something in Swanson's ear. He stood behind her, leaning casually against the doorway.

"Your client? She asked, motioning with her eyes in the direction of the bedroom. I nodded. "Are you aware that Gwen Cooper is…was…married to Rhys Williams?"

"Really?" One advantage of always saying things people find hard to believe, is that sometimes you can tell a real whopper and they can't tell the difference. "That's a bit of a coincidence." Ianto and I exchanged "who knew?" faces.

"Yes, it is." She glared at me and turned to Ianto, like he'd be an easier target. "Why did Ms. Cooper hire you?"

"It's not important," Ianto said.

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?"

"What my associate means," I explained, is that Mrs. Cooper had paid to send us on a bit of a wild goose chase."

"How so?"

"She was looking for something that can't be found. Because it doesn't exist."

Davidson snorted. "Like what?"

"Darian Egg. Ever heard of it?"

"No,"

"Precisely, because it's a myth."

Swanson shifted in her seat. "So you let this woman pay you to find something you knew didn't exist?"

"Yeah. It's her money."

"Sounds unethical."

"Not really. I did _tell_ her it didn't exist. She insisted it did. I agreed to make some inquiries."

Sgt. Davidson handed his boss a file. I couldn't imagine what Swanson saw in Davidson. Certainly, none of the fine qualities I saw in Ianto.

"Well, this sounds like the biggest coincidence in homicide history, Captain Harkness. Two people, married to each other, murdered separately and you just happen to be at both crime scenes."

"I doubt it's a coincidence, Detective." I stood up and Ianto followed. "If one person killed both of your vics, it was probably somebody who doesn't know that the Darian Egg doesn't exist. If I were you, I'd look for somebody really stupid, with a gun."

"Happy hunting, Detective," Ianto said, as we walked out of Gwen Cooper's house.

* * * * *

Ianto waited until we got into the car. "What was that about?"

"What part confused you, love?"

"The part where, suddenly, after me trying for two days, you're somehow convinced that the Darian Egg doesn't exist."

"The existence of the egg is completely irrelevant. What does matter is that somebody, somebody _armed_, believes it exists. And we need to stop him, or her, before he gets anybody else killed, especially us.

* * * * *

Someone was waiting outside the office door when we get back, it was that idiot Banana Boat. There went my afternoon of blissful unemployed sex.

He had cleaned up a bit since the last time I saw him. At least he was wearing more – jeans and a bright red Hawaiian shirt. He'd a pair of flimsy sandals on his feet, still more or less daring the world to take him seriously.

"Ianto, this is Mr. Boat, Banana Boat. Give me a couple of minutes and send him in."

I went through to my office and opened the window, inhaling the still warm air. It was early evening and the streets were full of hustle. So many happy faces, happy to be headed home at the end of the day, happy to shed their daytime responsibilities and enjoy the freedom that came every time the sun went down. I wondered how many of them were actually off to run a con, cheat on a lover, or murder a friend.

The job did this to me. I made a mental note: once Banana Boat was gone, Ianto and I were going straight home. But for the moment, Banana boat was very much here, and I had a feeling Banana Boat was the type who didn't take anything seriously until it was too late. The fact that he'd come to see us meant something dire had already happened.

Ianto showed the Boat in and left us.

"And, what can we do for you today, Boat Boy?"

"You know how you were asking about that egg that Rhys had?"

"Yes."

"And I told you some guy in a soldier get up had come asking about it?

"Yes."

"Well, today, a guy named Dafs shows up, says he works for that guy, John Hart. I'd seen him before. Dafs, I mean. With Rhys, but he said he worked for Hart. Said they'd looked everywhere and decided I must have the egg after all. But I don't, Mr. Harkness."

"_Captain_ Harkness."

"Yeah. Anyway, he got real angry and said I _did_ have it. Said he'd be back later. He said I had until nine tonight and if I didn't give it to him then, he'd bash me."

"And you say you don't have the egg?"

"I'm not just saying it. I don't have the damned thing. If I did, believe me, I'd have given it to him the first time. He scares the crap out of me."

"And where do you suppose he's going to look for you at nine?"

"My place." Panic flashed across his face.

"Calm down. Look, don't worry. Go home. Ianto and I will meet you there before nine. We'll deal with him. Believe me, if I'm there, Hart won't even notice you."

Banana Boat calmed noticeably with the assurance that he wouldn't have to face John's goon alone. He left the office with a big grin on his face. What a child!

I had to admit, there were times I didn't want to face Ianto alone. Like when I explained to him that we'd be going to Banana Boat's to wait for John Hart, or his henchman. So who am I to call anyone childish?

"Ianto!"

"Captain?"

"Would you do me the favor of accompanying me to dinner?"

"It would be my pleasure."

* * * * *

We ended up at this Chinese place we like. Ianto and I don't usually make a big deal of meals, but occasionally we like to eat something that's not packed in cardboard and they knew us at this restaurant, so we never had to order. We just walk in, sit at any table we want, and wait for the drinks and food to arrive.

"I know what you're up to, Jack."

"Wha?"

"Bringing me here. Softening me up."

I bluffed. "Believe me, sweetheart, if I wanted to butter you up, I could do a lot better than this."

He persisted. "You're trying to make me feel good so I won't mind so much when you run off to find John."

"Who says I'm going after John?"

Ianto just laughed. Our beers had arrived and he took a long draft before answering. "You do realize this isn't our first date?"

I rolled my eyes. Not a sound. I'm just not as good at it as he is.

"Ianto, I'm not running off to find John. _We_ are going to set a trap for him and then get your friend Detective Swanson to put him out of our misery for a good long time."

"She's not my friend."

"Have you seen the way she looks at you? Like she wants to eat you alive."

"I think you're projecting."

"Whatever." I poked a chopstick through my spring roll.

"Seriously, Jack, there's something about him. John. Any time he comes into your orbit, _our orbit_, you have to be there. You have to help him, as if he ever really needs help, and you justify it by saying you're just trying to get rid of him. If he's up to no good, you say you have to foil his plans in order to make sure he leaves as soon as possible." When Ianto said that, he waved his hands in the air, mocking me. "Why not just be honest with yourself? With _me_." He popped a couple of shrimp in his mouth and washed them down with a long swig of beer.

"Ianto, I'm sorry. I really don't know how it is that John keeps getting involved in our lives and then, when he does, it gets so complicated."

"Yes, well. The next time I see him, I think I'll uncomplicate it with a swift kick to the nuts."

* * * * *

The Tremont in early evening was just starting to come alive. So, we had no trouble finding our way to Banana Boat's place. The door, like most off that hallway, was open. Man. I get that old habits die hard, but didn't Banana Boat realize that John _would_ kill him with very little provocation?

We found the Boat Boy sitting in an enormous papasan with a cushion that must once have been dark blue. It was filthy and covered with what looked like the fallout from a laundry explosion that had devastated an entire side of the room. He had music cranked up on the player and he was furiously miming the drummer's beat. Eyes closed. This was a young man who had no clue about how to keep himself alive.

I walked in and smacked him on the back of the head. He shot out of his chair.

"Shit, that hurt," he pouted. "You scared me to death."

"If we'd been Hart's goon, we could have shot you dead," Ianto pointed out. Do you understand why 'that hurt' is better?"

Boat Boy started to say something, but I put a hand firmly on his shoulder and lowered him back into his seat. "Don't move. Don't speak."

We looked around for someplace to sit while we waited, but until the public health service came through, fumigated and sanitized, the less we touched the better.

My watch said five to nine. Ianto turned off the light, but left the door open. He stood by the door. I stood by the Boat. And we waited, but we didn't wait long.

A shadow passed over the doorway and paused. Our visitor stepped through the doorway and as he did so, Ianto grabbed his arm and, using his advantages of surprise and leverage, twisted the guy around until he was facing the wall, wincing as Ianto pulled his arm up his back.

I turned on the light to reveal a man not unlike scores of others we'd come across. Average height, maybe a little more than average build, looking every bit the overgrown playground bully he was.

"Where's John, Dafs?" I asked. "It is Dafs, isn't it?"

He didn't answer. I think he wanted to convince me he could take whatever I might be dishing out. I knew for a fact that wasn't true. There isn't a man alive who won't talk if I want him to, but I hadn't intended this encounter to get that rough.

"OK," I said. "Here's how this is going to go." I was tired. It had been a long and stupid day.

"Stop moving!" Ianto hissed. He jammed a forearm into Dafs' neck to hold him still.

"You punk! I told you I didn't have the damned egg!" Banana Boat was feeling good, safe. "When are you going to learn, Dafs?"  
"Sit down," I told him. Then, turning back to his friend, "Look, buddy. Tell John he's barking up the wrong tree. Tell him I thought he was a lot smarter than that."

Ianto rolled his eyes so sharply Dafs yanked his head back and yelped in pain. "You bastard!"

Just then, Banana Boat launched himself at Dafs. This happens a lot. The most helpless and timid people suddenly get delusions of macho, when Ianto and I are there to provide the muscle. It rarely ends well. Plenty of times, the minute we leave, the goon comes back and somebody ends up in the hospital. Or, as in this case, the mouse inadvertently causes a near disaster.

Banana Boat, gesturing wildly, tripped over a ukulele – yes, a ukulele – on the floor and launched himself at Ianto. I swooped in trying to help Ianto keep control of Dafs, just as Boat Boy hurled himself off of Ianto and back into me. The three of us ended up in a heap on the floor and Dafs beat it.

Ianto got up and ran after him, but it was no use. He was gone.

I got up and smacked Boat Boy in the head, again. Ianto might be anxious to see the back of John Hart, but I knew neither of us would rest until we'd seen the back of Banana Boat.

So, I grabbed him by the arm and pulled, probably causing more pain than Ianto had given Dafs, and we marched the Boat out to the car. Next stop, the train station, where we stuffed a wad of bills in his hand and shoved him on a train. Where to wasn't important. We just told him not to come back.

"Home, Jack?"

"Yes, please."

* * * * *

Back at our building, we stepped up to the lobby door, just as a figure came out from behind the large ornamental fir that framed the right side of the doorway. It was Toshiko. She was wearing a deep blue dress, similar to the one she'd had on the other night, and she was carrying in her hands a very familiar looking package wrapped in brown paper and bound with cords.

It looked exactly like the package I'd seen Rhys with. Could Toshiko have found the egg when no one else could? The person with Rhys two nights ago, his killer, was definitely not a woman. This was going to be interesting.

Toshiko's eyes darted up and down the street, like she suspected someone was watching or following her.

"Ianto," she whispered.

"Toshiko, what are you –"?

"Can we go inside?" She gave another worried glance over Ianto's shoulder and across the street.

"Sure."

She didn't speak until we got inside the apartment, where she crumbled into the closest chair. "I have the egg."

I was confused. Was she delivering it for Owen? But if that were the case, surely he'd have provided an escort for such potentially valuable cargo. Why take the risk of moving the egg at all, when he could just send for me to come get it. Then all the risk would be mine. Something was wrong.

Toshiko asked, "I don't suppose I could trouble you fellas for a drink?"

"Sure," I said. "Scotch OK?" She nodded. I poured us each one and sat down.

"What's in the bag, Tosh?"

"That egg thing. Owen had it but I…." She stopped speaking and looked at her hands in her lap. When she brought her head back up, tears brimmed in her eyes. I reached around her shoulders and rubbed her arm gently.

"Take your time." I handed her a tissue. Ianto wouldn't appreciate her getting snot on the sofa.

"Owen's a good guy, really he is." Toshiko was an incredibly bad judge of character. "But sometimes, it's like he thinks he has to be so tough and insensitive. It makes me crazy."

Ianto came in from the kitchen, bearing a tray that held three steaming mugs. "Coffee?" We held up our glasses in answer. Ianto shrugged and went back into the kitchen, coming back a moment later with only one mug.

After a few sips of her drink, Tosh resumed her story. "Anyway, I heard him having a conversation about the egg."

"With?"

"I don't know. I couldn't see them. I think the other man was called Dafs. But they also mentioned somebody called John."

She looked at me for confirmation, and I shrugged as if the names didn't mean anything to me. She blew her nose lightly and Ianto held the waste basket under her hand until she dropped the tissue. Then he sat back in his chair and set the wastebasket next to him.

His gorgeous ass had barely touched the upholstery when he noticed Tosh aiming her glass at the coffee table. Ianto immediately hopped back up and shoved a coaster under it.

Toshiko continued her story. "Look, I need the money. I was only with Owen hoping I could touch him for some cash." She took another sip of her drink and closed her eyes as it went down.

"My mom is sick. I'm all she's got and, when it comes to medicine, doctors, I'm not much help. I lost my security clearance and since then I haven't been able to find a decent job. So when I overheard Owen and Dafs talking about this egg, I thought maybe I could sell it and get rid of a lot of problems, including Owen, real quick." She tossed back the rest of her drink and looked at me. "Can I get a refill?" Ianto tossed an eyebrow my way, but said nothing.

"Why come to us, Toshiko?"

"Because you two are the only decent guys I know in this town, and the only people I know who might have the ability and inclination to take this off my hands." She gestured at the package lying next to her. "Ianto had asked about it and…." She looked at us.

Ianto gave her a sad smile. I ran a hand through my hair. "Toshiko, we're not looking for the egg to _buy_ it. We're gumshoes. The egg was stolen from our client."

"Oh, hell." Toshiko raised a hand to her forehead. "Are you going to give it back to him?"

"Her," Ianto said. "She's dead; her husband's dead. So no, we won't be giving it back to either of them." He got up and carried his coffee cup back to the kitchen. I went behind the sofa and opened the window, hoping the fresh air would make me feel better. It cleared my head for a moment, and luckily a moment was all I needed to solve one of the evening's problems.

"Listen, Toshiko. I know some folks that might be able to take that off your hands. We'll get you back in scratch and then see what we can do about finding you a job. OK?"

"Oh, Jack, would you? Really?"

I thought she was going to kiss me. Totally unnecessary but I wouldn't have fought it. Instead, just as she got up, there was a knock at the front door. Ianto came out of the kitchen and made his _what-the-hell_? face. A man who values order does not appreciate unexpected visitors in the middle of the night. I tossed him the package and motioned for him to take it and Toshiko into our bedroom. Then I went to the door.

"I don't care who you are." I yelled. "Why the hell are you at my door at this hour?"

"Open up, man. They're going to kill me."

I recognized the voice. "Are they out there _with_ you?"

"What?!" Knowing I'd regret it within moments, I opened the door on Banana Boat, eyes wide in panic, sopping wet from head to toe. He was two steps into the living room when Ianto saw him and barked "kitchen!" before dashing back down the hall.

I nodded in the right direction and the Boat went and dutifully stood there, dripping on our linoleum, until Ianto came back with a pile of towels and an old bathrobe. He set the towels on a kitchen chair and draped the bathrobe over another.

Then he reached into a low cabinet and pulled out an old plastic grocery bag. "Wet clothes in here, and then put the whole bag in the sink." The Boat nodded and his teeth chattered in response. "Use the towels to dry yourself _and_ the floor. Then, put the robe on. Do not bring one drop of water with you into my living room."

Ianto and I walked back to the living room and stood there, holding each other up, his nose on my neck, my hand in his hair. He needed my strength and I gave it to him. Funny thing that. If I feel Ianto needs me, I suddenly have all the energy in the world. Think I have a hero complex? Yeah. I get that a lot.

A very pitiful looking Banana Boat shuffled into the living room in Ianto's old bathrobe and, again without invitation, sat in the chair Ianto had vacated so recently. Ianto went to clear up in the kitchen.

"Why are you wet?"

"Fell in the fountain. Out front." It was becoming a habit.

"Why are you here, Boat Boy? I thought you were on a train."

"I was. I was going to go visit my momma." His face pinched together and then he began sobbing. I waited for him to compose himself.

Meantime, I stood to freshen my drink and poured him one. He drank it in one shot and I poured him another. Just then, Ianto came in with two mugs. "Coffee?" Too tired for another trip to the kitchen, he sat down on the sofa, putting the spare coffee on the coaster Toshiko had been using. He grabbed one for himself and flipped another one across the table with a meaningful look at Banana Boat.

"You're just like my mother, man! Next thing I know you'll be telling me to keep my feet off the table!"

"Jack!" I put my hands on Ianto's shoulders, soothing him back into his seat. Most of our guests know better than to even tease Ianto about anything like that, especially when he was in a bad mood, or tired or, like now, both.

"What stopped you from getting out of town, Boat Boy?"

"I _saw_ him!"

"Who?"

"John! The guy who wants my nuts in a jar!" I winced at the image. The Boat pouted.

"You _saw_ him…?

"At the train station! He's everywhere, man!"

"But you were _leaving_ the station," Ianto sighed. "You would have been safe, _dumbass_!"

"Alright, well. He's not here, at least not now," I said. "You just sit tight and Ianto and I will make sure you're OK." The Boat gave me his first hopeful look in hours. I'd figure out a way to convince John no criminal as stupid and pitiful as Banana Boat could keep something like the Darian egg secret if he'd actually got it.

Before I had a chance to explain my brilliant plan, someone started pounding on my door. It was loud this time, like they were trying to come right through it. Ianto and I both rolled our eyes, a slow luxurious roll that reached out for comfort and found none.

"Damn it, Jack! Open up!" It was Owen. Ianto picked up two coffee mugs and the Boat's glass using the fingers of one hand like a pincer. With the other hand, he grabbed the front of the bathrobe and pulled the Boat down the hall.

I opened the door to find a drunk, and very much worse for wear, Owen still in his tux although he'd undone his tie and it hung loose around his neck.

"Owen! What a pleasant surprise!"

"Where is she, Jack?"

"She?"

"Toshiko." He pushed past me. "I know she's here with that rent boy of yours." The last time Owen called Ianto that, I broke his jaw. If he hadn't been so obviously hammered, I'd have done it again. Owen made his way to the bar and was pouring himself a drink he didn't need. Sloppily.

"If he's my rent boy, Owen, what would he be doing with your girlfriend?"

"C'mon, Harkness. I know you two perverts swing both ways. I don't even want to think about what kind of debauchery the three of you might get up to."

"So you stopped by to see if we'd be interested in a foursome?"

"In your dreams!"

"She's not here, Owen." I reached for the doorknob. "And, now that we've settled that, you'll forgive me for being a less than perfect host, but could you possibly go away?"

"She's got something of mine, Jack." His red-rimmed eyes were pleading, but he wasn't emotional. With Owen, there was no personal. A thing was business or he had no time for it.

"Even if that's true, Owen, unless what she had is six feet tall, dark hair and gorgeous blue eyes, it ain't here!"

He stared at me for a moment. Then, from the back of the apartment, we heard three short, lady-like sneezes. Owen stood up and headed that way.

"She's here, you lying son of a bitch!"

Ianto intercepted Owen, blocking the hallway. He put a firm arm around his shoulder and spun him back toward the living room. "Yes, _she_ is here, Owen. My mother. Arrived this afternoon. You understand, I'd introduce you, but this is hardly the hour. And after what you've just said about Jack's mother, I'm not particularly disposed to introduce you to mine."

And I'll be damned if somebody didn't choose just that moment to tap out shave and a haircut on our door. This beautiful day just kept getting better and better. Ianto grabbed Owen by the face and disappeared down the hall. I thought for a moment. Toshiko was in our room. The Boat was in the spare room. That meant Owen was about to spend some quality time in the bathroom. As long as he didn't find out about the others' superior accommodations, I doubted he'd complain.

I walked to the door and swung it open without even asking who was there, to find John Hart and our old friend Dafs.

"Jackie!" John gave me a big hug and an enthusiastic kiss. Before I could say a word, the love of my life pulled John off me and slugged him so hard he fell on his ass. I really love it when Ianto does that superhero stuff. It took a great deal of self-control for me not to take him right there in the foyer.

While John peeled himself off the floor, I introduced myself to his friend. "Captain Jack Harkness. I believe we've sort of met." I put out my hand to shake and he looked at it, confused. No surprise there. Being a friend of John Hart's is easier if you have a very low IQ.

I motioned for them both to sit. John's nose was bleeding, but Ianto didn't make a move to get him a towel or protect the furniture. After you've been in our business as long as we have, you learn to get blood out of pretty much anything. And I don't think Ianto would have helped John if he'd been shooting arterial spray up the wall.

"Why are you here, John?" Not important. I quickly asked a better question. "What can I do to get you to leave here and never darken my solar system again?"

"Say you'll come with me."

Ianto, standing behind John, smacked the back of his head.

"It hasn't been at all nice seeing you again, John." I stood, ready to show him the door.

"Wait, Jack," he said, standing himself and producing a gun. "I came for something that's mine." He looked at Ianto. "Not, Jack, Eye Candy. I want the egg." I really do have to start patting people down before letting them in the apartment.

"Sorry, John. Not following you. Did you say you came for eggs? 'Cause it's still a bit early for breakfast." Only a little early by then.

"Don't try to be funny, Jack." Dafs also stood and produced a weapon. Ianto and I were almost never armed at home, but we were never far from our weapons. I heard him, behind me, move closer to the sofa. He was doing something with his hands; it sounded like scratching.

We heard another sneeze from the back room and the thugs looked over their shoulders. "My mother," Ianto said. That's when he produced his weapon and mine from, well I don't know where from. That's also when I had a revelation.

"Dafs? Why don't you tell John where the egg is?"

"Don't know what you're talking about." His trigger finger twitched. I figured he couldn't be too much of a shot.

"Yes, I imagine the things you don't know would make quite a list." He looked confused again. "You have the egg, Dafs, or at least, you _had_ it. You were going to sell it yourself, weren't you? Make a little money on the side? And if John never found out, well that's just more money for you, eh? And if you could beat up some poor sap who you already _knew_ didn't have the egg, so much the better. Am I right?"

John took a step away from Dafs and eyeballed him carefully. Dafs was scowling, effortlessly affecting a brainless demeanor.

"You should ask him about it, John. How he and Owen plotted to double cross you. He's already got you thinking he doesn't know where the egg is, when he and Owen know perfectly well where it is."

That produced a noise from the bathroom and Owen came charging out, _his_ weapon jabbing rapidly from side to side.

"Harkness," he growled. "You know I don't have that egg. Are you trying to get me killed?"

"Look where you are!" He looked around quickly, exposed. "I had you in a perfectly safe hiding place, Owen, until you ran out of it. Congratulations! Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"What?"

"And now that you've admitted you don't have the egg, what's to keep anyone in this room from shooting you?"

John looked at Dafs. "Were you really going to double cross me with this weasel? I thought we shared something." He looked like he was going to cry, which, from John, would only have been a contrived emotional display. If he ever had a heart, he would have sold it on the organ market ages ago.

"Please, John. You don't understand," Dafs begged. "I was going to tell you. You shouldn't trust Owen the way you do. I was going to prove it to you."

"Bullshit!" said Owen. If there weren't so many weapons drawn, he would definitely have lunged at Dafs. "You said you wanted to teach John some respect, remember? Told me he just thought of you as a pretty face." I snorted and I heard an echoing snort from Ianto, behind me. "Remember, Dafs. You said you couldn't wait to get free of John. Said your skin crawled every time he touched you. Said you could scrub all night and never feel clean." John stared at Dafs in disbelief. I did too.

Owen continued. "I only asked you about the egg because Jack had asked _me_. Then when you started with all this business about showing John what for, I figured I'd play along and maybe get some more useful information for Jack."

"Which you'd kindly offer to sell me, I imagine."

"Yeah. I certainly wouldn't do it as a favor. Not after your boyfriend tried to feel up my girl in my own place."

"I was not feeling her up, Owen." Ianto spat back. "It's called a conversation. Perhaps if you'd ever had one with her you wouldn't be in this mess. Besides, I don't think you can call her a girlfriend if you only use her for decoration."

"That's not her only use," Owen smirked, and that's when Ianto shot him, in the shoulder. The noise brought Toshiko running out of the bedroom, eyes wide with fright. She looked down at Owen. Balled up on the floor, clutching his shoulder.

"Thanks, Ianto. I wish I'd done that myself."

"Your mother, eh?" Owen said.

Toshiko glared at him. "Shut up, jackass."

John laughed. I did, too. "Alright," I said. "I want everybody's weapons on the floor." They all looked at me, incredulous. "Or Ianto will shoot. Believe me, he'll drop you long before you can shoot me. And all that will accomplish is making me angry." Everyone complied, showing a surprising – given their recent behavior – understanding of their situations. Ianto picked up the weapons, pausing to kick Owen, who was still writhing on the carpet, holding his bleeding arm. Ianto headed for the kitchen and Toshiko followed him.

"Now, since none of you can seem to tell a straight story, why don't you relax and let me tell one?" I didn't wait for their approval. "The way I figure it, word gets out that someone has a Darian Egg. Maybe somebody saw it at Gwen and Rhys' place. Maybe they let something slip to the wrong person. Maybe, they just made it up to score a quick con." I stared pointedly at Dafs. He looked at his lap.

"Whatever the case, that kind of news is bound to attract the attention of my former best friends, the scum of the earth. Folks like you, John." I noticed his nose had stopped bleeding.

"Could I get something for this wound? A painkiller, maybe?"

"Don't interrupt, Owen. The longer this story takes, the longer you wait for medical attention."

Owen grunted and I went on. "So, John, news of the egg brings you out of the armpit of the universe and into an arrangement with our friend Dafs, here."

"I'm not your friend."

"Sarcasm, Einstein." I rolled my eyes hard enough that he felt it, like a slap in the face. When I looked up, I saw Ianto, standing in the kitchen doorway, smiling proudly.

"My guess is that Gwen told Dafs and the two of them hatched a plan to get the egg from Rhys. She probably promised to leave town with him after that and you," I said, looking at Dafs. "You probably believed her."

"So Gwen hires me to track her not-actually-missing husband. I follow him to the Juicer where I see Rhys hand the package to Dafs." What I don't see is Gwen, behind me, wielding an incredibly hard blunt object. As a result, I also don't see you, Dafs, shoot Rhys. How'm I doing so far?"

No one answered. So, I went on. "Meanwhile, you, John, are hot on the trail of that egg. You hear that Rhys _had_ it, which is not surprising since he was making no secret of looking for a buyer. When you find out he's dead, you go after Banana Boat, because you've heard the two of them work together." That reminded me. "Ianto! I'm missing a guest in here."

He stuck his head out of the kitchen and said, "Took a powder, Jack. Looks like he jumped out the window."

Figures. "Never mind. He didn't have the egg, of course. But you, John, manage to terrorize him completely, which I'm sure you count as a day well spent. Although, that puts you back at square one. Until you hear that someone else has an egg for sale – Gwen. You meet her and she takes an immediate dislike to you. My guess is, you made a pass at her, which she rebuffed, and you shot her. Maybe next time, you can try murder rehab combined with a little anger management." John looked at me, acknowledging his guilt but showing no surprise that I'd figured him out. Truth is, I hadn't, but I did know people and in a situation like this, if I could imagine a human being's basest instincts, I usually wasn't far off.

"Eliminating Gwen put you on the trail of Dafs. Or maybe he found you. No matter, because Dafs was playing a dangerous game, offering the egg to the highest bidder. Who, as it turned out, was Owen. Unfortunately for both of them, Owen left the package unguarded, leading him to believe that Toshiko had it, which led all of you here this evening." I looked at my watch. "_Last_ evening."

"You'll have noticed Toshiko is here, but I must inform you she does _not_ have the egg." I smelled coffee. Not much longer, I promised myself.

"You see, gentlemen, Toshiko can't have the egg because the egg doesn't exist. It's a myth, surely someone must have already pointed that out to you. Despite that, if they hadn't got themselves killed, Gwen and Rhys – or Gwen and Dafs - probably would have relieved some poor mope of a small fortune in exchange for whatever is actually in that package."

Man, was I tired of talking. Ianto hurried out of the kitchen, down the hall, and returned quickly with the package, which he tossed easily to me. I noticed he was wearing a pinstriped apron over his suit and held a spatula in one hand. As he disappeared back in the kitchen, I unwrapped the package one-handed, keeping an eye and my weapon on the others. What I saw made me laugh so hard I nearly dropped my gun.

"This, gentlemen," I said, placing the opened package on the coffee table, "is a Slitheen skin, shrink wrapped if I'm not mistaken." I laughed again but, sadly, I laughed alone.

"What do you mean Slitheen skin, Harkness?" Owen, of course. "The _Raxacoricofallapatorians_wear _other_ people's skins. Their own aren't removable."

"Neither are ours, strictly speaking, Owen. What I meant to say is that this is a stolen skin that a Raxacoricofallapatorian has cast off. This one's been freeze dried, from the looks of it. We used to find these when we were kids. Called them Slitheen skins, 'cause it's shorter. There's quite a black market for these in some quarters, but it's no Darian Egg."

The others looked on, disgusted.

"So where does that leave us, Jackie?" John asked, hopeful.

"It leaves you and Dafs modeling orange jump suits in a cinder block hotel. And it leaves you, Owen, back on your throne as king of the sewer dwellers." I think Owen smirked, or winced, I couldn't tell.

"Alright," John said, managing to get on his feet. "Might as well get this over with." He wasn't resigned to his fate, I knew. He just figured the opportunities for escape were greater once we got moving.

"Not so fast," I said. "I believe Ianto's made us breakfast. Most important meal of the day, you know. And, if he prepares a meal and you try to leave before it's served, I'm afraid he'll shoot you again."

Toshiko appeared at that moment bearing a tray piled high with toast. Ianto followed with a mountain of bacon and sausages. They carried these to the dining room table and went back for the rest. I gestured for the others to take their seats.

When Ianto brought the coffee, he also had a shoebox which he set in front of me. I opened it and, taking out the first set of handcuffs, secured one of John's wrists to his chair. I locked down Owen and Dafs in the same way. Owen looked none too pleased that his cuffs were fur-lined, but we only had one set of the rhinestones and I'd put those on John. It's not like we had half a dozen matching sets lying around the house.

Ianto brought in a tray of assorted jams and jellies and was about to join us, when someone knocked on the damned door. Again! I motioned for the others to dig in while Ianto got the door. It was Detective Swanson and Sergeant Davidson. That's who we were missing! Ianto led them over to the dining room.

"Detective Swanson, Sergeant Davidson, you know Jack and I'm sure you've had occasion to meet Owen, from the Spruce Juicer. This is Toshiko, a friend of ours. This slightly injured fellow here is John, he killed Gwen Cooper, and the cretin on his left is Dafs, he killed Rhys Williams. I'm sure you'll all have plenty to talk about."

Ianto motioned them to the empty chairs and retook his own. "Bon appétit," he said, offering his most hospitable smile.

After a moment passed, everyone managed to start shoveling it in. Delicious. Dafs had the nerve to grumble something about how it wasn't really breakfast without eggs. Ianto socked him in the face without knocking so much as a crumb from his toast.

When we'd finished, Ianto and Toshiko cleared the table and the cops left with our guests. I made them take Owen just for good measure. At a minimum, they'd want to get his statement, although I was sure if they even made a half-hearted effort they could find a reason to arrest him. I made them use their own cuffs.

We promised to bring Toshiko by later in the day to sign her own statement.

After they'd gone, Toshiko wearily asked, "I don't suppose I could trouble you two for cab fare. I'm exhausted."

"Sleep here, Tosh," Ianto said. "We'll take you home after we've all had some rest."

"That's very sweet of you, Ianto, but I don't really have anything to sleep in."

"Don't worry. I'm pretty sure I can find something from the last time we…uh…my mother visited." I doubt Toshiko was convinced Ianto's mother had ever worn the nightie he found for her. It's a good thing she didn't see the matching mules.

An hour later, Ianto and I were in bed, at long last.

"I think we could use some help around the office, don't you? I mean, you're not bad, but Toshiko's really smart and she's got nice pins."

"So this is how you tell me you're dumping me?"

"I'm not dumping you, knucklehead. I'm talking about giving her a job."

"They say the boyfriend is always the last one to know."

"I never say that."

"Jack?"

"Yeah."

"How did you know Toshiko didn't have the egg?"

"Easy. I picked it up, remember? It was way too light. The real Darian Egg, if it exists, is said to be made of one of the densest substances in existence. Tosh might barely have been able to lift it, but I wouldn't have been able to throw it. And if I had, it would have knocked you on your adorable rear. Satisfied?

"Mm," Ianto answered. He was soon snoring lightly against my chest. Outside, I heard the wail of a siren breaking the calm quiet of dawn. The mean, desperate, life of the city went on, but for one night I'd managed to push it back into its hole. And I had Ianto now and tomorrow and the next day. I could complain, but what would be the point?


End file.
